Vote Ange.

As it is soon to be time for yet another Prime Minister after Starmer and Burnham, The Restorationist aims to shortcut this tedious process by formally endorsing the only candidate who can truly see us through this mess until someone serious comes along to fix it. Not the candidate we wanted; not the candidate we need; just what we are stuck with. Someone who won't, or maybe simply can't, make it any worse.

No GCSEs. No serious ideas. A nice-looking broad who likes the boys, likes a drink (apparently a drunken rampage), and has never once given the impression she wants to reorganise society along Marxist lines. Because it sounds like a great deal of paperwork and there's not a lot of cash in it.

This is not a criticism. This is the entire appeal. We genuinely love Ange from the other side of the debate.

You know exactly what you are getting with Chip Shop Ange: a warm, foul-mouthed council estate lass with low capacity to do anything clever. Which, after three decades of "clever" people running the country into a ditch, counts as a manifesto.

In April 2021, while the rest of the country was banned from setting foot in each other's houses, Ange ignored the bullshit and was in a Durham constituency office drinking beer and eating curry with Keir Starmer. Good on her. She had a lager and a laugh with the boss while the rest of the Cabinet spent lockdown lecturing the nation from behind a lectern, pretending they had never wanted a drink in their lives. Ange never bothered with the pretence. That is worth more than every one of Matt Hancock's sombre press briefings put together.

She is tough on criminals, and she does not hedge it.

In 2022, live, on a “candid, raucous and hilarious” podcast, in front of an audience, she declared herself "quite hardline" and offered the (glorious) view when it comes to terrorists the policy should be "shoot first, ask questions second." Diane Abbott, a woman who has spent thirty years finding new ways to be wrong about crime, was aghast.

The lunatic left were apoplectic.

The director of Liberty, Martha Spurrier, condemned Rayner’s comments. She told Novara Media: “The safety we all want will never come from the reckless use of lethal force with no accountability. It’s shocking to hear these comments, particularly in the wake of recent scandals about police abuses of power which rightly put them under the spotlight of public scrutiny."

Ange didn't stop there. She told the nation what she says to her own local police force about persistent thugs: turn up at three in the morning, "beat down the door," and "annoy the hell out of them" until they stop. Glorious.

Compare it to the current Shadow Home Secretary's last three interviews and ask which one sounds like they have ever met a criminal.

She is funny too, which counts for more than the pollsters ever give it credit for. Deputising for Starmer at PMQs in 2020, she needled Boris Johnson over the Dominic Cummings farce with a single line about how "the next time a man with Covid symptoms drives from London to Durham it will probably be for the nearest Covid test." She got the whole chamber laughing at a Prime Minister who deserved every second of it.

She has also called a sitting Tory MP "scum" to his face mid-speech, live, on camera, and been personally rebuked for it by the Deputy Speaker. When Hansard offered to smooth her speeches into polished House of Commons dialect, she told them not to bother as she would rather sound like herself than like the other four hundred people in the building.

Ange is so progressive her son is apparently a bankable porn star for the capitalist site OnlyFans. She loves trans so much she believes cross-dressing men are women even though she's a woman. She let her bae roll with her taxpayer-funded security detail and official £80,000 BMW X5 to move boxes in style. This person isn't going to pose a problem when it comes to complex ideas involving economic or political theory.

On Brexit, she is exactly the sort of Remainer worth having. She loved the EU for the same reason every Remainer secretly does: sunny summers, cheap flights, and a second retirement rental home somewhere in the Dordogne, Algarve, or Costa del Sol. She never pretended otherwise.

And yet, unlike almost the entire front bench she sat beside, she voted to trigger Article 50 anyway because she opposed a second referendum as an insult to the people who voted. She hates Scottish independence. She told the country in December 2019 she would vote Leave herself if forced to choose again. Losing a vote means you lost. She grasped that. Half her party still hasn't.

Politically, she has proved more right than the men above her: a bar most of them still manage to fail. When Peter Mandelson's long and increasingly unwholesome friendship with Jeffrey Epstein blew up in Starmer's face, it emerged Ange had privately warned against sending him to Washington in the first place.

She has also, unlike most of her front bench, been a consistent supporter of the Intelligence and Security Committee's oversight powers, which are the sort of institution Westminster only remembers exists when it becomes briefly convenient to invoke it.

And then there is the money, where the whole case comes together.

Ange hates tax. Like us.

She didn't want to hand over £40,000 of stamp duty on a lovely £800,000 flat in Hove to the government. Good. She shouldn't have to.

She got caught though, sadly, referred herself, and lost her job over it. HMRC quietly cleared her of any wrongdoing this May. The tabloids, not unkindly, christened her "Three Pads" Rayner (a clever variation on "knee pads").

Tax is theft, and a woman who structured her own property affairs to keep more of her own money away from the Exchequer has, whatever her voting record says, grasped something correctly the rest of her party never will. Ange rightly hates the idea she should have to voluntarily pay a charity tithe to the state at gunpoint. And it makes her Our Girl.

She talks like Clause Four and files her paperwork like a landlord. Given the choice between a socialist who sincerely believes it, and one who is quietly hedging her bets in the Sussex property market, the latter is doing less harm to the country by the day. Let Ange get on with it like every other working class boy and girl. Let the poor get rich, and get out of their way. What she needs is opportunity, not ideology.

She will walk through the lobby for every tax rise Labour ever dreams up and read every line Downing Street hands her without blinking. C'est la vie. We'll have to deal with the annoying Marxist campaigning and the buy-to-let governing.

The choice is between Ange and whoever/whatever else the Labour front bench can produce.

Against this field she is, by some distance, the one least equipped to do any lasting damage. That is worth something.

She has neither the ideology nor the stomach for it. She has already been sacked once, cleared, and quietly waved back into Cabinet by a brand new Prime Minister. The country did not so much as notice.

This is not a weakness in the case for Ange. It is the entire case for Ange.

It is the entire historical case for Lord Salisbury being the greatest Prime Minister in our country's history. As elucidated in Henry Thoreau's Civil Disobedience and deeply discussed by Thomas Paine: she who governs least, governs most.

Ange doesn't know any of this. She can't spell any of it either. That's fine.

Her electoral appeal, at full volume, is stunning:

• Serious men know parliamentary totty when they see it.
• Married women understand this is someone they can drink boxed wine with.
• Young men recognise a high value Vegas milf they might have a chance with.
• Young women know a big sister who will fight for them on a point of principle.

Somebody was always going to hold the job. Given the field, the country could do a great deal worse than the woman who swears at the despatch box; kicks in criminals' doors; drank through lockdown; ripped a Prime Minister on live television; spotted Mandelson coming; and keeps her own money rather than donate it to HMRC.

Ange can beat Farage – easily – because she is the ordinary daughter of the Red Wall. Nige is the bastard child of Thatcher who is their only visible hope for sanity.

All Britain's strongest milf need do is cast aside the stupid woke DEI nonsense, start talking about Marxist revolution and Muslim grooming gangs, and embrace her people once again. A few podcasts in the pub; a Vogue cover shoot; some photos of her visiting a think-tank, and an endorsement from Musk. It's not difficult. You know Trump is going to love her once he sees her in a low-cut top and she agrees to opening up the North Sea. Elon will offer to inseminate her for Mars. It works for everyone. The Special Relationship is restored. Even Putin will negotiate.

This is how international diplomacy works. As one keen redditor notes:

Proper hot I bet she's up for anything

The Daily Mail readers will vote for her because of her second home; the northern voice of common sense will bring out the men of the hills; and the lunatic left will believe they can manipulate her into doing insane things like they were in an Amsterdam brothel. The snobbish other 20% will think she's an idiot and bet on non-interference.

Grangela, as she once, gloriously, christened herself, cannot wreck the country. She has neither the plan nor the patience for it. Chip Shop Ange for Number 10.

Ange is Our Girl.

When she makes a few million she's going to look fabulous – as every socialist does.

She is exactly the model we want. Get the working class rich, fast. We want everyone in England who grew up poor to get rich and build real lasting wealth. Unironically, she is the symbol of the revolution every person in England actually wants to see: the ability of anyone, no matter where they came from, to get ahead and pass on a better way of life to their children than they had.

Good on her. Genuinely. Bless her for it. More of this. Let's cheer people on when they succeed.

Now let's spread the word. Poor people can get wealthy in England.

Not rarely or occasionally. Every day.

You know her from the pub and have met her countless times. We know her too. We all know what we're getting. No surprises; no drama; nothing unexpected. Most importantly, she knows us. She's a British lass, through and through.

She knows what we want: the pub, roast, football, the theatre, a nice holiday. And she knows what we don't like: foreigners, MPs, tax.

It's called the House of Commons for a reason.

Vote Ange for hope and no change. For now, anyway.